Sweet Is the Work, My God, My King

Sweet is the work

my God

my king

To praise Thy name

give thanks and sing

To show Thy love by morn­ing light

And talk of all Thy truth at night.

Sweet is the day of sac­red rest

No mor­tal cares shall seize my breast;

O may my heart in tune be found

Like Da­vid’s harp of so­lemn sound!

My heart shall tri­umph in my Lord

And bless His works

and bless His Word.

Thy works of grace

how bright they shine!

How deep Thy coun­sels

how di­vine!

Fools nev­er raise their thoughts so high;

Like brutes they live

like brutes they die;

Like grass they flour­ish

till Thy breath

Blast them in ev­er­last­ing death.

But I shall share a glo­ri­ous part

When grace has well re­fined my heart;

And fresh sup­plies of joy are shed

Like ho­ly oil

to cheer my head.

Sin (my worst ene­my be­fore)

Shall vex my eyes and ears no more;

My in­ward foes shall all be slain

Nor Sa­tan break my peace again.

Then shall I see

and hear

and know

All I de­sired and wished be­low;

And ev­ery pow­er find sweet em­ploy

In that eter­nal world of joy.

And then what tri­umphs shall I raise

To Thy dear name through end­less days

For in the realms of joy I’ll see

Thy face in full fe­li­ci­ty.